“Basil!” Venturo shouted.
As the wave of ink washed over the mouse, there was a bright swirl of light. Basil’s brown jacket became a stunning blue, and suddenly there was a contraption with gears and a propellor behind him. He was strapped to it, his hands resting on some kind of lever system.
Basil’s eyes narrowed, and he tried the controls. “Ha ha!” he shouted as he lifted into the air. “How extraordinary.” And with that, he was off.
Shouts and giggles erupted throughout the Hall of Lorcana. Venturo saw a nearby Cinderella glimmer gasp as the ink began to change her, but the flood swelled suddenly and knocked him off his feet before he could see what happened. The river of ink swept him—along with much of the lore that had been on display in the Hall of Lorcana—out of the hall and down a spacious hallway. Venturo looked all around for something to grab onto but saw nothing. With a jolt, he realized that where the outer wall of the Illuminary should be there was only a jagged hole gaping over the Inklands far, far below.
Venturo’s time in Lorcana flashed before his eyes—inkcasting his first glimmer, discovering fantastic gadgets, and rubbing shoulders with heroes and villains alike. If only he could have said goodbye to Shanzay and . . .
“Martin!” he exclaimed.
His friend was leaning from a doorway just ahead, reaching toward the flood for something Venturo couldn’t see.
“Martin!” Venturo shouted, louder this time.
Martin saw Venturo and his eyes widened. “Hold on!” Martin called over the roar of rushing ink. He leaned farther out, grabbed Venturo’s shirt, and with a loud grunt hauled Venturo up out of the flood. The two stumbled backward until they bumped against the railing of a nearby balcony.